


Chili today, hot tamale

by mrua7



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Diners, Friendship, Gen, Mission Fic, Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:34:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29938329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrua7/pseuds/mrua7
Summary: Napoleon and Illya are dead tired after completing a tedious mission and on their way back to New York city they stop at a diner for a break and some food.
Kudos: 9





	Chili today, hot tamale

**The prompt:**   
  
  
  


Solo and Kuryakin had finished up with a successful assignment; it was nothing too complicated and that was a relief to the two men.

They’d had one assignment after another, not even allowing them the standard twenty-four hour notification for a mission.

“I don’t know about you,”Napoleon mumbled,”but I’m dead tired.”

They had the top down on the silver Impala convertible, enjoying the sunny weather. The fresh air was also helping to keep them awake.

“As am I,”Illya responded,”and I am also very hungry.”

Solo chuckled. “When are you not hungry.”

“When I am sleeping,” the Russian retorted.

That made Napoleon burst out into a belly laugh, and he was joined by his partner in the sudden moment of humor.

The American pulled open a spiral TripTick binder and scanned it. “This is coming in handy; it says there’s a diner just about a mile down the interstate.”

“I was surprised when we were supplied with it,” Illya said.

“That’s because it’s free since accounting had the U.N.C.L.E. join AAA.”

“That is a cost savings of which I approve,” Kuryakin snickered.

They pulled in front of the Phoenicia diner where they parked the car. Illya quickly put on his suit jacket to cover his gun and shoulder holster as did Napoleon.

There were a few other cars there, but not so many for the diner to be packed.

A brass bell tinkled as the door was opened, reminiscent of the one at Del Floria’s, and that made for a welcoming sound to the agents.

A waitress stood behind the counter but she didn’t acknowledge them. Usually they’d be told where to sit, but not today. Both agents scanned the room, noting there were two men sitting at the counter, but no other patrons were visible.

Napoleon shrugged to his partner as he pointed to the nearest booth.

Finally the waitress approached them with two menus.

“Coffee?” She poured it into the mugs sitting on the table without waiting for an answer.

“Special today is chili.”

“That sounds good,”Solo looked to Illya, who nodded his approval.

“You want regular or five-alarm?” She asked.

“I will try the five-alarm,”Kuryakin said.

Napoleon cringed at the thought. “Are you sure? We have a long ride ahead of us pal.”

“It will be fine, as you have said, I have a cast iron stomach.”

“Your choice,”Napoleon said. “Miss...Elma,” he looked at her name badge. Make that one regular and one five-alarm, and I’ll have a Ceasar salad as well.”

“Make that two, and may I have a large bowl of chili, please Miss?”

“Suit yourself. I recommend having a glass of milk with that Mister; it’s pretty hot.”

“That will not be necessary, thank you.” Illya handed her the two menus.

They waited patiently, drinking their coffee. Both men needed the break and this was just what the doctor ordered...a brief respite. The assignment they just completed wasn't difficult, but it had been tedious.

Finally their meals arrived and just as they were both about to dig in, their peace was rudely interrupted.

“All right, hands in the air where we can see them,”one of the men at the counter rose from his stool as he shouted. He was brandishing a pistol and from the looks of him he knew how to use it.

The man seated next to him rose, holding a pistol in his hand as well.

“Okay Toots, empty the register.” He pointed the gun in her direction.

“And you Cookie, step out front where we can see you. No monkey business, keep those hands up!” The other gunman called out.

The cook complied and as he stepped behind the counter with the waitress, the would-be robbers focused their attention on Napoleon and Illya.

“You two, give me your cash, watches and jewelry.”

“Do you think this is really wise gentlemen? Robbery will lead to a bad ending for the two of you,” Napoleon calmly said.

His reward for speaking up got him pistol-whipped.

One of them grabbed the agent’s cash, wristwatches and ripped Napoleon’s star sapphire ring from his pinky. Luckily Illya had neglected to wear the gold band he usually sported; it belonged to his father and for some reason he left the ring home before leaving for this latest assignment.

The robbers collected their loot and slowly backed out of the diner door and dashed for a red Chevy pickup truck that was next to the agent’s Impala.

Elma was as white as a ghost, but kept her composure. She was in shock as she watched Napoleon and Illya calmly eat their lunch.

“Shame we can’t even call the police since our phone is out of order.”

Solo and Kuryakin looked each other in the eye. Without saying a word they wolfed down a few spoonfuls of chili before rising.

Napoleon threw down a few dollar bills on the table before speaking that he left in his jacket pocket.

“Don’t worry Miss, my partner and I will take care of those two.”

“How can you? They’ve got a good head start.”

“We know what their vehicle looks like and it should not be a problem to locate it.”

“Mister,” the cook finally spoke up,” nearly everybody around these parts has a red pickup truck.”

“Not to worry, sir,”Illya nodded.”We have our ways.”

“Well if you can get back my money, lunch is on me! Supper too!”

The agents sprung into action and were out the door, leaving the waitress and cook with their mouths hanging open.

Napoleon and Illya hopped into the Impala, not using the doors and started the engine; the tires squealed as they burned rubber when turning onto the interstate.

Napoleon pulled his communicator and set it to track the signal as Illya had implanted a homing device beneath the star sapphire stone in Solo’s pinky ring.

It was meant to track down the American when he was in trouble, but somehow they never thought it would be used to catch a couple of thieves.

“Take the next turn off tovarisch,”Solo pointed.

Illya made a sharp left, heading onto a dirt road that looked as though it wasn’t used all too often.

“We’re on the right track but the signal is weak, so they’ve definitely got a good lead on us tovarisch; can you pick up the pace?”

“First we stop and put up the roof as there is too much dust from the road.”

Solo squinted at his partner,”Really?”

“Yes; it will only take a minute, or would you rather choke from the dust... _and_ get your suit covered in dust?”

Illya knew he’d struck the right chord when saying that; when it came to his clothes his partner was a stickler for keeping them neat and clean. Though more often than not, Napoleon’s suits when suffering damage made for a costly expense report.

Once the roof was taken care of Illya slipped back onto the red leatherette bench seat, and took his place behind the steering wheel.

He floored the gas pedal, sending sand and pebbles flying into the air from the rear tires.

It took them another forty-five minutes to find their quarry. Finally there it was, the pickup truck was parked in front of a ramshackle house.

The outside walls were weather worn, as the original color of paint had long faded away. There was a small spiral of smoke rising up from a crooked brick chimney

“Looks like they’re home partner, shall we?”Napoleon grinned.

Illya brought the car to a stop out of view of the shack; they both hopped out of the car, leaving the doors ajar.

Slowly they crept up to the house; Solo taking a quick peek through a dirt smudged window.

He gave a silent hand signal to Kuryakin to proceed and on a finger-count to three they kicked in the door.

The thieves were taken completely by surprise and had no time to react as the agents hit them with sleep darts. The men were seated on a ripped old sofa and each fell forward to the floor with dull thud.

After finding several lengths of rope, the two men were bound sitting back to back on the floor, though they were still out cold.

Illya retrieved the stolen money and other goods; while Solo plucked his ring from one man’s finger; the agents left the men for the police who they’d notify via headquarters.

Satisfied at a job well done, Solo and Kuryakin returned to the interstate and headed back to the Phoenicia diner.

Unfortunately it was darkened, as the agents had arrived after closing time.

“Damn,” Napoleon swore.

There was nothing they could do but wrap the money belonging to the diner in one of the maps from the TripTik book and slip it under the locked door.

“So much for a free meal,” Napoleon said.”And I didn’t get a receipt for the ones I paid for.”

“That is the least of my worries. I should have had the milk with my chili,” Illya held his hand to his stomach.

“Wow, the cast-iron stomach is not so tough after all?”

Illya hesitated to respond for a moment. “For that you owe me dinner.”

“Tsk. Why? I was just stating a fact. You admitted that a five-alarm chili got the better of you.”

“I did no such thing, I merely said I should have had the milk.”

“Mmm-huh.” Solo closed his eyes while crossing his arms in front of himself. The next place to eat was at least fifty miles away. Illya would have to suffer until then.

Kuryakin pulled a red and white striped peppermint candy from his pocket and quietly opened the cellophane wrapper. He popped it into his mouth with a sigh.

The Russian reminded himself that an U.N.C.L.E. agent must be prepared for every contingency, including indigestion...


End file.
